


Interesting, That Soldier Fellow

by scribblecure



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A Study in Pink, Alternate Ending, Gay Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Missing Scene, POV Greg Lestrade, Paternal Greg Lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 18:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16979952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblecure/pseuds/scribblecure
Summary: Missing scenes of Greg and Mycroft in ASIP, with a Johnlock ending.-----Greg drew breath to curse him.“Careful, Inspector,” Mycroft warned.





	Interesting, That Soldier Fellow

“Pink!” Sherlock yelled, and flew out the door. 

Greg sighed. He turned and retreated back into the room where Jennifer Wilson’s body lay. The moment he bent down to examine this supposed splash pattern from her suitcase, his phone rang. “MYCROFT HOLMES,” the screen blinked. Greg immediately stood up and went to a quiet corner of the room to answer it. 

“Inspector Lestrade,” Greg said, knowing full well that Mycroft knew who he was. 

“Inspector, you’ve forgotten our arrangement,” Mycroft warned. 

“Sherlock only left five seconds ago, when was I supposed to call you?”

“Immediately.”

Greg sighed. “I know you’re watching me, so you’ve realized that I’m trying to solve a murder here.”

“I think you’ll find that this is more important,” Mycroft said slowly, and Greg knew he was already picturing the chain of command at the Yard. His brother’s overinvolvement was one of the worst downsides of working with Sherlock, which was really saying something. 

Greg went along with it. “Yes, Sherlock had someone with him. But he didn’t seem dangerous.”

“I didn’t specify dangerous, I asked for any unusual behavior changes. Who is this man?”

“Umm… Doctor Watson, Sherlock called him.”

“Tell me everything you know.”

Greg kicked at the floor impatiently. “He had some decent ideas, so he’s probably not a moron. Realized it was an asphyxiation death, so he does know his stuff. He walks with a limp. Has a cane.” Greg paused. “That’s all I’ve got.”

“No wonder you require Sherlock’s assistance.” Greg rolled his eyes, thankfully unseen over the phone. Mycroft continued, “John Watson is an army doctor who’s just been invalided home from Afghanistan. Born April 21, 1977. Seeing a therapist for his post-traumatic stress disorder and that psychosomatic limp of his.”

“Why ask me, then?” Greg complained. “You clearly know more than I do.”

“What does Sherlock think of him?” Mycroft asked, ignoring the question. 

“How should I know?”

“Use your limited powers of observation.”

Greg drew breath to curse him.

“Careful, Inspector,” Mycroft warned. 

“He insulted him- no surprise there -but not too bad by his standards. I dunno, I think he likes this guy. He’s never brought anyone with him before, so this guy must be special.” 

“Why?” 

Greg hesitated, weighing which Holmes brother he’d rather have pissed off. Sherlock could make his life a misery, but only Mycroft could have him killed. 

“Has Sherlock ever seemed interested in men before?” Greg asked cautiously. 

“No need for eggshells, Inspector.”

“Fine. Sherlock’s gay, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Then, I don’t know, they seem like they’re interested in each other. This Watson guy kept complimenting Sherlock, and he looked embarrassed.”

“Who looked embarrassed?” Mycroft demanded. 

“Sherlock. It was a weird thing to watch.”

“Dear lord.” The line was silent for a moment, until, “Are you aware that Doctor Watson is moving into Sherlock’s new flat?”

“They’re probably together, then. Never thought I’d see the day.”

There was a sound like papers shuffling, and Greg could faintly hear Mycroft say, “Anthea, activate phone box three-seven-two.” Then Mycroft came back on the line and snapped, “Get back to work, Inspector.”

* * *

“What is it?” Greg asked. 

“I’ve spoken to Doctor Watson. He’s remarkably uncooperative.”

“Did you threaten him, too?”

“Only as necessary,” Mycroft said mildly. “He’s quite infatuated already, it appears.”

“Listen, any chance we could have this conversation later? Sherlock and I are trying to catch a serial killer.”

Mycroft laughed insincerely. “Do you know where he is right now?”

“Finding us a suspect, I hope.”

“He’s taken Doctor Watson out to dinner.”

“Oh, Christ,” Greg groaned. 

“I need you to search his new flat,” Mycroft demanded. 

“I’m already searching for a pink suitcase. You seen one?”

“Oh, Sherlock found it hours ago.”

“What?”

“It’s in his flat. _Which_ you will be allowed to enter… provided you cooperate with my staff.”

“Fine,” Greg grumbled. 

“Excellent. Make sure the entire place is clean. Of illicit substances, not rubbish; it’s already a sty. And report anything you discover about Doctor Watson in the process.”

* * *

“That’s a crack shot you’re looking for, but not just a marksman- a fighter. His hands couldn’t have shaken at all, so clearly he’s acclimatised to violence. He didn’t fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You’re looking for a man probably with a history of military service… and nerves of steel…” 

Sherlock turned, and Greg followed his gaze. Doctor Watson was standing next to a squad car and trying to look nonchalant. 

Sherlock shook his head. “Actually, do you know what? Ignore me.”

“Sorry?” Greg asked. 

“Ignore all of that, it’s just the shock talking.” His gaze was completely fixed on Doctor Watson, and he slowly started to walk towards him. 

“Where are you going?”

“I just need to talk about the rent.”

Greg grinned. “The rent, huh?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said distractedly. 

“You’re not gonna thank him for saving you life?”

Sherlock startled and turned to face Greg. After a moment he said softly, “Don’t arrest him.” When Greg didn’t respond, Sherlock looked worried. “Please.”

Greg sighed. “Not a word about this.”

“Promise,” Sherlock said quickly. 

“Okay, off you go. Try to keep it in your pants til you get home.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes at Greg, but the high point of his cheekbones turned pink. He walked over to Doctor Watson and said something, but Greg was too far away to hear. 

A black car pulled up on the other side of the lot, and Greg groaned. When it came to a stop, he bent down and peered into the side window, hoping he was making eye contact through the tinted glass. 

Mycroft rolled down the window. “Hello, Inspector.”

“Did you find anything?” Greg demanded. 

“In what sense?”

“All those background checks you ran on Doctor Watson. Anything that’ll put Sherlock in danger?”

“Nothing of note, but the very fact of his connection with my brother -”

“Then leave.”

Mycroft startled. “I’m sorry?”

“Let them work this out on their own. They’re adults.”

“I don’t think you’re aware of how risky this situation is for Sherlock,” Mycroft said dourly. “If they end up together -”

“It’ll be a lot worse if they don’t,” Greg interrupted. “Sherlock needs someone. You and I have done our best, but we’ve hit the limit. Let him have Doctor Watson.”

Mycroft stared him down. After a very long moment, he said ominously, “On your head be it.”

Now Greg really _was_ invested in making sure that things worked out between those two. 

Mycroft rolled up the window, and the car pulled away. Greg watched for a while longer to make sure it had really gone. When he turned back to look at Sherlock and Doctor Watson, he thought they’d disappeared. It took him a moment to spot them in a dimly lit corner, away from the Yarders. They were still talking, but the space between them had shrunk considerably. Sherlock said something, and they both burst into laughter. When they’d recovered, Doctor Watson looked Sherlock in the eye and licked his lips. He reached up and slid one hand into the hair behind Sherlock’s ear, then pulled him down into a kiss. 

Greg would live to see another day.


End file.
